


invictus

by punkrockbadger



Series: rewrite potter [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And they're all adorable, Everybody Lives, F/M, Harry has siblings, POC Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 17:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2199972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockbadger/pseuds/punkrockbadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's time to move forward, James."</p>
            </blockquote>





	invictus

After the events of October thirty-first, James is a live wire.

He paces the length of the single hallway in Remus’ cottage, head full to bursting with questions, and Lily follows. She always has since the day he turned to her, the both of them hidden away in an empty classroom, and whispered that he would like to make something beautiful out of the both of them, if she’d come along.

And now, she realizes, as Harry slaps the table, he was right. He has made something beautiful, and nearly given his life to ensure the safety of this gift they’ve given each other. And now it is time to move on, to leave this war behind, so she laces her fingers through his, shifts the strap of the bag on her shoulder, and they Apparate to his childhood home to set things up.

“It’s time to move forward, James.” She says, when she realizes he's wandered into his old childhood bedroom with her by his side. The walls are a calm light blue, something she would never have expected from the James she’d known as a girl, but makes sense coming from the James she has come to love. He has always loved the sky just as much as her, loved and longed for freedom in equal parts, and watching his patience tick down over the last year has been exhausting for both of them. He can fly here, she notes, looking out the window. Hopefully not with Harry, but it’s bound to happen sooner or later. “We can’t anchor ourselves in the past like this.”

“We can’t.” He says, and kisses her while they stand, bruised and broken in more ways than one, in the room where he’d spent years dreaming of her being his. His arms are tight around her, as if he is afraid that she is still a dream after all this time, and she wraps her arms around his neck, knowing that feeling all too well. “Not when Harry needs us.”

“Yeah.” She says, thinking of the child they’ve left with Remus for the afternoon. Harry is nearly a year and a half old, and a tempest on a good day. Much like his father, she likes to say, just for the pout it elicits from her husband. James has grown up, she will allow for that, but he still throws tantrums like a professional when it suits him. “Not when Harry needs us.”

“I love you.” His voice is raw and his eyes speak of something deeper, something more base than a simple expression of love, and she gets it because she feels it too.

“I love you too.” The red and gold bandanna she had tied around her head to keep her bangs back comes undone and his hand darts out to catch it before she even registers that it has fallen, and she laughs against his lips. “We’ll bring Harry to his new home soon?”

“Tomorrow.” He says, planting a messy kiss on her cheek. “Bright and early.”

“Tomorrow.” She agrees, and they run down the stairs hand in hand, hooting and hollering like the children they never quite got to be.

* * *

“This is where Appa grew up.” James whispers in Harry’s ear, as his son struggles to be free of his father’s hold. Harry has always been a runner, James muses, so of course he’d want to run as soon as he found somewhere new to explore. He should have known better. “And you’ll get to too.”

Harry nods as if he understands, green eyes alight with boyish mischief, and James casts a tracking charm on his son before letting him loose on the first floor. Thankfully, for all the running Harry does, he has not yet figured out stairs, and combining that with the trail of destruction he tends to leave behind him, finding him is never hard.

“Does he love it?” Lily is wearing one of James’ old flannel shirts over hers, the sleeves rolled up to just above her elbows, and winks when he finally notices. “There’s quite a lot of room to raise a kid, here.”

“Enough room for a whole crew, I’d say.” He laughs as he barely avoids being caught full in the face by the repugnant set of dishcloths that Petunia had gifted them for their wedding. “What do you say, Lily? Ten? Fifteen?”

“Two.” She puts a hand on her hip. “Maximum. I’ve seen what trying for more does, you know. Molly’s a mess most of the time.”

“That’s because she’s got the twins to reckon with. Ours will be right angels.” He declares confidently, before a crashing noise from the next room informs them that their child is absolutely not an angel by any means. “Right, that one’s on me.”

“We can only go up from here.” She says, ever the one to make things look a little brighter than they are, and continues to unpack dishes while James wanders off to confront the fifteen month old terror they’re planning to unleash on the world.

* * *

The next June, when Harry is a month short of turning two, James receives a letter.

“Puddlemere wants me.” He whispers, awestruck. He has always rooted for Puddlemere, but only occasionally wears his horrendously out of fashion Puddlemere United sweater in public, more due to Lily’s request that he never wear it again rather than any change in allegiances. “I haven’t played in years and they still want me.”

“We don’t need the money.” She says, carefully moving Harry’s hand so that the food in the spoon makes it into his mouth. “It’s your call. Do what makes you happy.”

“I’ll be home most every evening.” He says, frowning. “But I’ll be away sometimes.”

“You silly, silly man.” She laughs as their son nearly swallows the spoon along with his food. “Do you think we can’t manage without you?”

“A little bit.” He smiles sheepishly when she throws a fork at his head and it embeds itself in the wall, just a centimeter above his ear. “Fine, fine, I take it back.”

Two weeks later, when he has to leave for training camp, Lily sets Harry down on the kitchen counter and turns the wireless on full blast, singing along to the John Lennon that the radio thankfully has been charmed to pick up. She picks him up halfway through the song, spinning around as he giggles, and kisses her son’s forehead when the music dies down.

“Amma?” He asks, ever the one to be in tune with her feelings, and she shrugs. He pauses, looking exactly like his father as he considers the next best option.

“Just missing your Appa, that’s all.” He sighs in relief and nods.

“Appa buh bye.” He says, resting his head on her shoulder, and she ruffles his hair. “Appa home?”

“Soon, love.” She rubs his back. “Soon.”

* * *

Puddlemere wins the Quidditch League Cup that May and James is still in one piece, a few new scars tacked on to an ever expanding list that Lily can do nothing but throw her hands up and sigh about.

“These scars are different.” He says, when she fusses over his latest injury.

“Why, because a Bludger made them rather than a hex?” She’s put five bandages more than he needs over what is really a tiny scratch, when compared to the ragged scar that neatly bisects his right collarbone.

“Cause battle wounds are hot, sure, but girls love athletes.” He winks, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t you love me, darling?”

“Hardly at all, these days.” She rolls her eyes.

“Maybe I should give you a few good reminders, hm?” He chuckles as he experimentally wiggles his fingers to make sure she hasn’t immobilized his hand. “Harry’s getting old enough for a sibling, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know. The kids in my family have a habit of turning into berks when they have siblings, and I’m quite sure your parents didn’t even want to take the chance with you.” She smiles unconsciously at the thought of another child running around beside Harry, perhaps with her hair and James’ eyes, this time.

“On the contrary.” He grins. “They were afraid for the world, since one Potter already was more than enough.”

“We’ve got three now.” She notes. “Should we be scared?”

“And nothing’s gone too far wrong.” He shrugs. “I think it can handle a fourth.”

She goes back to washing the dishes and he goes back to levitating them just above her head for a laugh, just as they always have done on the evenings he is home, and Harry runs an obstacle course around and between their legs in an effort to amuse himself.

* * *

 

In late August, they surprise Harry with the news of a little sibling, right before the adults from the Order come over for the monthly dinner, and he nearly screams it to everyone all day.

“Should I get my godfather credentials renewed?” Sirius asks, spinning a bottle absentmindedly in his hand.

“Absolutely not.” James and Lily say simultaneously, and the other adults laugh. There are two chairs left empty, near the head of the table, for Dorcas and Benjy, and another on Remus’ free side for Marlene.

“This one’s going to Remus.” James nods along with Lily’s statement. “Can’t have another kid falling off your motorcycle.”

“He bounced, Harry did.” Sirius protests. “It’s not fair! No one got hurt.”

Remus is silent, as he usually is these days, because he, James and Lily are not the only ones at the table who remember that James and Lily had promised Peter the position of godfather for their second child.

“No one got hurt.” James repeats Sirius’ remark, albeit sounding far more downtrodden and tired than the other man would ever be capable of, and conversation is forced from there until everyone shows themselves out.

There are still too many memories, even two years later, and James holds Lily all night, wand securely in his hand. And when Harry climbs into their bed, thumb in his mouth, whimpering about a nightmare involving green lights, they let him settle between them.

“Harry’s safe.” Harry states, contentedly resting his head on Lily’s shoulder. “With Amma and Appa and Baby.” He presses a soft kiss to the barely there swell of Lily's stomach, coaxing laughter out of his parents.

“Appa’s going to keep us all safe forever.” She says, petting his head. “No more scary things.”

“No more.” James repeats, and allows himself to sound the tiniest bit hopeful.

* * *

Sarah Anne Potter is born early on the morning of February fourth, and her three and a half year old brother spends the next few weeks obsessing over her, along with his best friends, Ron, Neville and Ginny.

“See, Gin? A little sister.” James ruffles the youngest Weasley’s hair when she comes to take a closer look at the baby. “You’re going to show her all the cool things, right?”

Ginny looks at the baby for a second, oddly pensive, and nods resolutely. “Frogs.”

“Frogs sound pretty good, kiddo.” James smiles. “She’ll like that.”

Ginny's eyes flash right before she turns tail and runs out of the room, and scaredy cat Harry and easily terrified Ron shriek when always fearless Ginny reappears hours later, her once baby pink dress mutilated, muddied and ripped, with a green frog clutched between her hands.

Sarah smiles, wriggling like the frog, and everyone but Harry shares a good laugh.

* * *

“James Potter.” Lily’s voice is taking on the murderous rage tone that James so desperately loves avoiding, but he found the test as soon as he’d come home from practice. He’s not getting out of this one alive. “What the hell were we thinking last night?”

“Good answer or funny answer?” They’ve been married nearly five years now and they both know the pattern well enough now.

“There are going to be two kids in this house under the age of one, babe.” She groans. “How are we going to do this…”

“Same way we did Harry and Sarah.” He wraps his arms around her. “Wing it and hope they turn out alright.”

“I found Harry chewing on the staircase yesterday.” She says and he kisses her before she has the chance to realize that all hope was lost with Harry a long time ago.

* * *

“Congratulations, Mrs. Potter! You’ll be having twins in about… at the end of December, probably!”

“WHAT?”

* * *

“You’re dead to me.” Lily says, rubbing her eyes, while James drives them home. His father had forced him to get his driver’s license when he was seventeen and, although he’d rebelled against it at the time, he finds himself constantly being thankful for it.“Forever.”

“Mhm.” He nods, focusing on the road. “I’ll remember that.”

“No more.” She looks afraid and James assumes she’s calculating how much sleep they’re going to get in the next few years, which is not much. “This is it.”

“Agreed.” He nods. “So very agreed.”

* * *

Anne Marie and Andrew Ryan Potter are born late on Christmas night and Matthew Nicholas Potter, much to everyone's surprise, follows just after midnight on the twenty-sixth. Sirius and Remus bring their older siblings in to visit on the twenty-seventh, just to give Lily some time to rest, and Sarah starts crying as soon as she sees her mother holding another baby. That makes Matthew burst into tears, which makes Andrew and Anne cry, and soon everyone but James is sobbing. Again.

Harry seems awestruck by Anne, the only one of the siblings to have inherited their mother’s red hair, and laughs when she sleepily blinks. “Annie gots Appa’s eyes like Harry gots Amma’s eyes!”

“Has for her and have for you, Harry.” Remus corrects, ruffling Harry’s hair as he chatters on and on to Anne and Andrew while rubbing a hiccuping Sarah’s back. He has Harry correcting himself and Sarah quiet within a minute, and Lily’s mouth nearly hangs open in shock.

“You’ll make a great dad, Remus.” She says, smiling down at Matthew, who has gone back to sleep.

“Someday, perhaps.” Remus says, and Sirius throws an arm around him.

“So, Potters, you guys ready for sleepless nights to the max?” James chuckles at Sirius’ exclamation.

“You and Remus’ll be joining, of course.”

“Of _course_.” Sirius says, as if his reaction is the most predictable thing ever. “Why would I ever leave my precious godchildren?”

“Nice try.” Lily smirks. “We promised Remus the third kid, so he can just have a houseful.”

“I never get _anything_ I want!” Sirius pouts.

“Good Lord, he’s like a child himself.” James sighs. “Sirius Potter, our first baby.”

“Free food?” Sirius asks, hopeful, and James rolls his eyes.

“In our house, you earn your keep.” Lily nods. “You want food? You change nappies. The poopy ones. All of them.”

“No _thanks_.” Sirius stomps out and Harry giggles, shaking his head, before clinging to Remus’ leg.

“Harry likes Uncle Rem better.” He announces resolutely, and Remus grins.

“You should, you know, it’s safer.” Remus chuckles.

“ _I HEARD THAT!_ ” Sirius calls from the hallway.

* * *

The next summer is warm, almost unbelievably so, and a letter arrives in their mailbox. Harry finds it, of course, and squeals once he notices it is decorated almost fancifully with stickers of lions, tigers and giraffes with his name scrawled across the front in red crayon. After nearly an hour of begging, Lily opens the letter for him, revealing an invitation to Dudley’s fifth birthday party the next weekend.

“Can I go?” Harry asks. He’s never thought Dudley was his friend, but he likes zebras just like Harry does, so that’s a connection. “No magic! Promise promise!”

“Promise promise promise?” She turns the card over to see a scrawled message from Petunia asking that she bring the family, as she has not gotten to see her latest nieces and nephews yet. Lily is fully aware that this is likely just Petunia wanting a chance to prove that her life is inherently superior to Lily’s, but she shrugs. “We’ll go.”

“Yay! A party!” Harry runs upstairs to tell Sarah the news, and Lily knows it won’t end well, seeing as Sarah can hardly stand Ron Weasley. Dudley, although she shouldn’t speak ill of her nephew, is far duller than Harry’s best friend, and Sarah has it in for herself if she’s planning to be agreeable the whole time.

And so, on the afternoon of the twenty-third of June, all seven Potters find themselves at the Dursleys’ local park, just across the street from an ordinary house on an entirely ordinary street. The house has likely never had owl pellets dumped on the doorstep or had brooms piled on its roof or had a Bludger shaped hole in its door, and that notion is almost disquieting to Lily, who grew up in one of these ordinary houses.

James steps forward to greet their hosts, always the brave one, and Vernon appears like a ghost, muttering about upstarts who don’t know their place while taking their gift. Harry and the boys all stand out among the other children, since the boys all strongly resemble their father, and some of the other suburban mothers, clustered around Petunia, glance disapprovingly at her when they notice that only one of her children looks distinctly English.

“Hello there, Tuney.” She smiles as brightly as she can as she carefully navigates social niceties with her sister while six month old Anne clings to her side. “How is everything?”

She chances a quick look over at all the fathers to find that James, accompanied by sixteen month Sarah (just one month older than Harry was when-- never mind, they don't talk about that anymore), is enthralling everyone with his almost encyclopedic knowledge of cricket and football teams and the current standings, and sighs in relief when she hears Harry telling Dudley about the merits of zebras during the aftermath of the game of tag, because “they’s like HORSES ‘cept with STRIPES and stripes make ALL THE THINGS better”. Drew and Mattie are asleep in the stroller by James, and he reaches out to rock it every few minutes.

“You have… such good kids.” Petunia begins, and Lily braces herself for the oncoming criticism. “But there are so many of them. How do you cope, what with your husband away all the time?”

Her sister’s circle of gossip hounds had managed to wheedle out the knowledge that her husband was now a professional athlete for a team based in Dorset County, after some time spent fighting a war, and had painted James as a neglectful father with the broadest brush they could find.

“I imagine she copes quite well, considering all of them have turned out quite well.” James pops up right behind her, something Lily is long used to but Petunia isn’t. “She’s quite the wonderful mother, you know. Always seems to know what cogs are spinning in their precious little heads.”

“I—I see.” Petunia blushes and steps back. “Lily was always good with the younger kids.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, Harry’s football team usually practices at six, so we’ll have to get home. Got to get his uniform and whatnot. Thanks for the party!” James somehow manages to wrangle Harry into the car he’d managed to get back from Arthur for the day, despite Harry’s complaints that he wanted to “have more fun with his cousin”, and all seven Potters hurry into their decidedly not ordinary house in a decidedly not ordinary section of their village after a few hours of the worst car ride ever.

“Football team?” Lily asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Sorry.” James grins sheepishly. “First thing I thought of.”

“You’re a blessing, sometimes.” She picks up Matthew, who James had put down on the dinner table. “You really are.”

“Tuney’s a right blast, babe.” He winks. “Don’t know what you can’t seem to see in her.”

“Every other word out of her mouth is praising Dudley! The kid’s alright, sure, but he’s not _brilliant_!” Lily groans. “Harry’s far better than him at most things, but the minute I say a single word about my son…”

“Oh, my Dudley did that years ago.” James does a passing imitation of Petunia, one hand on his hip. “Did you hear about what he did last week?”

“My little Dudders, such a hero!” Lily clasps her hands together, trying to replicate Petunia’s expression. “Who calls a child Dudders?”

“Muggles.” James shrugs, shaking his head in exasperation. “The worst sort.”

* * *

“Smile!” The photographer calls, capturing the moment forever as he taps his wand against the side of the camera. It had taken nearly an hour to get all five kids situated and vaguely consoled, and the strain thankfully didn’t show on either of the parents’ faces. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” James stands up and stretches, immediately undoing the first two buttons of his shirt and loosening his tie. Eight year old Harry immediately copies his father and nearly four year old Drew, frowning the whole time, tries to copy his older brother’s motions. “Thanks for staying.”

The photographer casts a few charms on the photograph and slides it into a frame while James counts out his pay, and hands the framed photograph to Lily, who sets it on the mantel as the photographer leaves.

“Would you look at that…” Sarah says, having pulled a chair over from the dining table to look at the picture. “We all look normal.”

“It’s _weird_.” Harry adds, and lifts up Anne to see when she bats at his leg, asking if she looks pretty. 

“Agreed!” James laughs, picking up Drew and Mattie. “We’re never doing that again!”

“Send it to Aunt Tuney and Uncle Vernon.” Sarah says, giggling. “He’ll throw a fit. Daddy called Uncle Vernon a stiff ‘cause he hates him.”

“Name one person who doesn’t hate Uncle Vernon.” Harry drawls and Mattie ventures a guess.

“Nuncle Vennon’s mummy?”

“Nah, she probably hates herself for bringing him into the world.” James shudders. “Thank god we got such darling angels. You’re all wonderful and should never change. Except Harry. Change a little bit.”

“I’m gonna punch you someday, Appa. Best be ready.” Harry grumbles, adjusting the thick glasses he’d had to get in March, and James shrugs, grinning.

“Perfect Christmas card quote, that.” James turns to Lily. “Put that wonderful gem in, babe.”

“For sure.” Lily laughs. “Definitely.”

* * *

“Whoa!” Harry fumbles unsteadily as the broom rises into the air, but he grins, showing off his missing canines, once he’s settled. “This is cool! Amma, look!”

James grins, crossing his arms. “Look, babe, he’s a natural.”

“He’s also ten and on an adult broom.” Lily points out, and James groans. “Don’t go up too far, Harry.”

“Promise!” Harry’s wearing a red and gold jumper and ripped up jeans, having barely been convinced to change out of his pajamas before playing with his Christmas present, and Lily remembers another boy wearing similar clothes, long ago, calling out to her while unsteadily mounted on a real adult broom for the first time. James puts an arm around her waist and she rests her head on his shoulder while Harry zooms around in circles, Sarah running below the broom as if she is afraid he will fall with the triplets following behind her like little ducklings.

“They’re all so grown up, James.” She sighs, placing her hand over his.

“Harry’ll be off to Hogwarts next September.” James shudders. “It seems like just yesterday that we were bringing him home, right?”

“Right…” She watches her oldest barely avoid a tree and winces as branches scratch across his thankfully covered arm. “Just yesterday.”

“He’ll be safe there.” James kisses the top of her head. "Can't get up to too much trouble."

“How much are you willing to bet on that?” She asks, looking up at her husband, who grins sheepishly and uses his free hand to scratch behind his ear.

“Not too much, really.” He shifts his weight between his feet, looking adorably nervous. “He is my son. And yours.”

“True. I did do my fair share of rule breaking.” Lily says, looking rather proud of herself, and James chuckles, shaking his head.

“It's going to be terrible and horrible and we'll love every second of it.” He hugs her tighter. “No surprises anymore, hm?”

“None at all.” James says, just as Harry lands gracefully in front of them, and Sarah and the triplets congregate around him, clamoring for details about what flying on the big people broom is like.

Harry, however, immediately makes for the inch of space between his parents’ torsos and squeezes himself in between them. “Always wanting a little extra attention, yeah, Mister Potter?”

“Always.” Harry says, measuring his height against his mother’s when she looks away and pretends not to notice.


End file.
